


Snowmen and Snuggles

by MotherBooker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crocs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Past Child Abuse, Snowmen, winter snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20032201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherBooker/pseuds/MotherBooker
Summary: It's the first snowfall of the year, and Harry takes the opportunity to build his first snowman while the rest of the school sleeps.





	Snowmen and Snuggles

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, orpheous87!

Harry slipped out of the main doors and removed his invisibility cloak from around his shoulders. Drawing his wand as he closed the doors behind him, he lit his wand with a quiet Lumos and paused on the step, taking in his surroundings. 

It had been snowing steadily since dinner and now a perfect blanket of undisturbed snow lay over the Hogwarts grounds. It looked like something from the fancy Christmas cards that McGonagall had pinned up in her classroom, it was so perfect. Hagrid’s evergreen trees seemed to sparkle under the light of the moon, their leaves peeking out from under layers of fresh snow. 

It was difficult to believe people had died on these very steps mere months before.

Harry stepped onto the snow, unable to contain his joy at the sight of his footsteps disturbing the picture-perfect landscape as he made his way across the grass. He didn’t go too far, just far enough so that he wouldn’t be recognisable from one of the castle windows. He didn’t want to ruin his little outing with an hours detention from Filch. 

Deciding he’d gone far enough, Harry stopped, marvelling in the way his breath came out in white puffs and rubbed his hands together, wishing he’d brought his gloves with him to combat the icy wind. He’d been in such a rush to get out into the snow before the first years came out and destroyed the immaculate blanket of snow in the morning, that he’d forgotten to pick up a spare cloak and warm clothing. His threadbare Weasley jumper and Dudley’s old jeans were useless against the biting cold and the wetness seeping into the edges of his clothing. 

But he was outside now, and he was going to do what he came to do, even if it meant Draco and Hermione having a go at him for being out in the cold after curfew.

Wiping fallen snowflakes off his glasses and holding his wand between his teeth to free up his hands, Harry set about creating his very first snowman. 

It didn’t start off very well. His experience with snow was limited to snowball fights with Ron when they weren’t sidetracked by saving Hogwarts, and getting a large ball of snow to stay together was more difficult than he had anticipated. His hands were numb and the sleeves of his jumper were soaked through by the time he had managed a passable snowman body. 

It was far from perfect - the body was lumpy and the twigs he had used for arms were too thin and droopy - but it was a start. 

The head was easier, as it was much smaller. His fingers were too numb to be bothered by the cold of the snow or the wind that had started to pick up, blowing large snowflakes into Harry’s eyes and mouth. Balancing it on top of the other ball was tricky and he had to start the head again when it tumbled from its precarious position, but with a handful of extra snow and some force, Harry successfully attached the head. He dug under the snow for two large pebbles and finished off his snowman with a little carrot he’d pinched from the kitchens on his way down.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork, removing his wand from his mouth and grinning from ear to ear. The snowman was only small and just about came past his knee, and its eyes were two different colours, but it was his snowman and he couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful.

Harry removed his camera from his pocket and unshrunk it, taking the opportunity to snap a photo of his little snowman before the snowfall grew heavier and broke his little twiggy arms and buried his lower half under a clean sheet of snow. 

He slipped the photo into his pocket and shrunk down his camera again as he wrapped his invisibility cloak around himself again, relishing the little bit of extra warmth the cloak provided. He took one last glance at his little snowman, pride swelling in his chest, before tracing his footsteps back to the doors of the castle and hoping Draco would be asleep when he snuck back into their rooms.

-

His journey back to the 8th year common room was largely uneventful, except for a brief encounter with Flitwick by the kitchens. He was mumbling something about cream cakes and selfish, entitled plant-growers. Harry skirted around the grumpy professor and decided it was best not to get involved. 

He ran the rest of the way to the 8th year common room, which was tucked away down a small corridor next to the library, shivering in the drafty, open castle and craving the warmth and comfort of his bed. 

The portrait - a young girl surrounded by hundreds of stuffed animals - huffed when he knocked and removed his invisibility cloak.

“I should go and get Severus,” she sniffed. “It would serve you right for waking me up.”

“I’ll get Luna to show you the teddy she made for my godson if you stay quiet,” he whispered. Why did Portrait Snape have to suddenly decide children weren’t hellish creatures born to annoy him and befriend the youngest portrait?

“Is it fluffy?”

“The fluffiest.”

After a moment of careful consideration, the portrait swung open and Harry hurried inside. 

The common room was empty. It seemed that everyone else had taken advantage of the lull in homework during the run-up to their mock exams and headed up to bed on time for once. Even Hermione wasn’t there and she could regularly be found curled up in front of the fire writing out her Transfiguration notes  _ just one last time _ well past midnight.

Harry stepped over Crookshanks, who was lounging in front of the fireplace to take advantage of the dying embers in the grate, dodging his outstretched paw and sharp claws. 

“Furry bastard,” Harry muttered as the cat hissed at him for daring to approach. 

Harry hurried through the common room and up the stairs, being as quiet as possible as he walked past the other dorm rooms. He reached his room and prayed to whatever deity had been watching over him over the years that Draco would be asleep and he could sneak into bed without Draco ever knowing. 

Harry had no such luck.

“Where the  _ fuck _ have you been?”

His tone reminded Harry of Mrs Weasley when Ron snuck out to rescue him from the Dursleys, though he doubted Draco would appreciate the comparison, no matter how much he loved Molly. 

Draco was sat up in his bed, blankets bunched up around his waist and a Potions textbook propped up against them. His hair was sticking up in all directions and Harry was finding it difficult to take his boyfriend’s angry scowl seriously when he resembled a grumpy, windswept squirrel.

“Harry, you’re soaked through,” Draco said, sounding both angry and worried as he folded the corner of his page to mark it - something that gave Hermione a mild heart attack every time she witnessed him do it - and climbed out of bed.

“I went out to build a snowman,” Harry said sheepishly, wincing when Draco glared at him.

“Was this snowman  _ really _ worth you freezing your arse off?” Draco pushed Harry backwards until he was sitting down on his bed and snapped his fingers. “Dobby!”

“What can Dobby do for Master Draco, sir?” 

“Get us two hot chocolates, please.”

Dobby’s eyes widened - whether at Draco’s politeness or the chance to serve  _ Master Harry Potter, Sir _ , Harry wasn’t sure - and apparated out of the bedroom. 

“I’m fine, really-” Harry insisted, but he was cut off by Draco throwing a blanket in his face and switching his soggy clothes for fresh pyjamas with a complicated spell that Harry vowed to learn at some point. Draco banished the wet clothes to the washing basket and gestured for Harry to take the blanket that was slowly sliding off the bed. 

“You need to learn to take care of yourself,” Draco scolded, tucking the blanket around Harry and handing him a cup of hot chocolate as Dobby popped back into the room with a tray. “You’ll make yourself sick and you need sleep.”

“You aren’t asleep,” Harry said, taking a sip of his drink and sighing contentedly at the warmth that flooded through him. 

“I was worried about  _ you _ ,” Draco snapped, waving Dobby away and pointing his wand at Harry again. Rather than hexing him as Harry had expected, Draco sent a Drying Charm through his hair. “You didn’t come to bed and no one had seen you. You could have been  _ hurt _ or something and Hermione wouldn’t let me go out to look for you, because it was after curfew.” His voice hitched and he blinked rapidly, as if he was trying to stop tears from falling.

Harry suddenly felt unbelievably guilty. He knew Draco worried about, and would overthink the smallest of things, a symptom of the anxiety the events of the war had left him with. He could barely begin to imagine the anxiousness Draco would have felt when he took off without a word, especially with his tendency to attract danger like an industrial strength magnet. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’m going back to bed. See you in the morning,” Draco muttered, ignoring Harry and wiping furiously at his eyes.

“Draco, please,” Harry reached out, catching his arm and gently pulling him towards Harry’s bed. “Climb in with me?”

Draco frowned, eyes slightly red and fingers wrapped tightly around his mug. Harry stared at him, pleading with his eyes. He hated arguing with Draco and he knew things would only get worse if they let things stew overnight.

Eventually, Draco relented, dragging the blanket off his own bed and putting his mug down on the bedside table. 

“Only because I sleep better when I’m in bed with you,” Draco insisted, pulling his Weasley blanket over both of them as Harry looped an arm around his waist. The Weasley blanket was one of Draco’s most treasured possessions, even though he probably wouldn’t admit it out loud. The knitted blanket was comfortable, cosy and had built-in warming charms, which made them perfect for the winter months in a drafty castle and they felt like Heaven to Harry right now.

“Of course. And you’re a good boyfriend, and good boyfriends look after their other half after they suffer from near-fatal frostbite,” Harry said dramatically, laughing when Draco rolled his eyes. He relaxed into Draco’s side, breathing in his familiar scent. 

“What was so important about making this snowman that you had to leave without telling anyone?” Draco asked quietly, breaking the peaceful silence of the bedroom. 

Harry sighed against Draco’s chest, moving his hand to link his fingers with Draco’s, receiving a comforting squeeze in return. Talking about the Dursleys and the way they treated him -  _ abused _ him - was always difficult, but his mind healer encouraged him to talk about them, if not with her, with those close to him. 

“The Dursley’s never let me play in the snow,” Harry started, Draco’s fingers tightening uncomfortably at the mention of his family. He’d told Draco about them before, of course, and, understandably, he didn’t have a very high opinion of them. 

“Bastards.”

“I’m not finished yet, the insults can wait,” Harry chided, nudging Draco’s side. 

“ _ Fine _ .”

“They made me clear their drive of snow while the rest of the kids played in the street. Sometimes they’d make me get up at 5 in the morning if Vernon had to be at work, so I could clear it before he had to leave. I didn’t have any gloves or a proper winter coat, so I usually ended up sick right throughout the winter. Dudley thought I made an even better target for his little gang too. He’d get gravel from next door’s drive and put it inside snowballs so they’d hurt more when they hit me,” Harry hesitated, draining the last of the hot chocolate and letting Draco remove his mug before continuing. “Vernon used to encourage him.”

Draco muttered something under his breath - most likely a threat against the Dursleys - and pressed a lingering, comforting kiss to Harry’s forehead. 

“I’d never even tasted hot chocolate before I came to Hogwarts, much less had a snowball fight or built a snowman. And obviously, we were too busy saving the world and running from homicidal maniacs to worry about playing in the snow and enjoying our childhood. Tonight was the first time I’ve seen snow since we were living off mushrooms in the Forest of Dean and I wanted a little bit of time alone before the rest of the students got down there tomorrow and messed up the perfect snow. I felt normal for once, you know? Building that little snowman.”

“We are going to build as many snowmen as possible tomorrow,” Draco said firmly, letting go of his hand and wrapping his arms around Harry instead.

“You said you were doing Potions revision tomorrow, one last push before the mock exam on Monday.”

“You think I’m going to  _ revise _ after hearing more about how shit your childhood was? Besides, we both know I’ll be passing that exam, revision or no revision.” 

“You’re so  _ sweet _ ,” Harry snorted, laughing into Draco’s chest. 

“Malfoys aren’t  _ sweet _ ,” Draco grumbled, flicking Harry’s head. “And are you quite sure I can’t gut your so-called family? They deserve it after what they did to you.”

“You wouldn’t need to gut them,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Just turn up on their doorstep wearing the most garish wizarding robes you can find. And Crocs. Vernon would blow his top if someone turned up on his doorstep wearing  _ Crocs _ .” The mental image that provided - Draco wearing rainbow coloured robes complete with neon green crocs and Vernon, red-faced with veins bulging out of his forehead as his eyes darted between his robes and footwear - was a brilliant one. Harry half-wished he’d learnt Legilimency so he could share it with Draco.

“What in Merlin’s name is a  _ Croc _ ? Do Muggles wear crocodiles?” Draco asked, sounding confused and rather horrified.

“They’re a type of footwear - you would  _ despise _ them. They’re the type of thing you might wear to the beach, maybe? The Dursleys wouldn’t be caught dead near them. They are the ugliest thing ever created.” 

Draco looked thoughtful and Harry momentarily mourned the fact that he could have convinced him that Crocs were the height of fashion, just to see Draco march around the castle wearing the awful things. He wouldn’t inflict that sort of embarrassment on his boyfriend, no matter how hilarious it would be. 

“I thought that was how Weasley described your cousin?”

“Prat,” Harry said eventually, the pair of them breathless with laughter. He rested his forehead on the centre of Draco’s chest, yawning quietly. 

“You’re exhausted, Harry,” Draco said, tilting Harry’s chin up with his fingers and kissing him softly while he slid Harry’s glasses off his face. “You need a decent sleep.” 

“I’m not that tired!” He insisted, covering a second yawn with his hand.

“Go to sleep, Harry, or I’ll give you  _ real  _ frostbite,” Draco threatened teasingly.

Harry snuggled down against Draco’s chest, his steady heartbeat and the warmth of the Weasley blankets surrounding him lulling him to sleep. The snowman, he decided, had definitely been worth it.


End file.
